


Like Milk Through Honey

by gohoubi



Series: The Stories of Daenerys and Sansa [3]
Category: Game of Thrones (TV)
Genre: Dany pines HARD for Sansa and vice versa. If u think it's OOC then w/e i guess, Domestic Fluff, Dragons, F/F, Jon and Daenerys are not in love, Jon goes by Aegon now, King Jon Snow, King's Landing, Light Angst, Marriage of Convenience, Mild Hurt/Comfort, Mutual Pining, Pillow Talk, Protective Sansa Stark, Queen Daenerys, Sansa is the Hand, Sansa will totally ride Rhaegal, Sharing a Bed, Westerosi Politics
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-04-20
Updated: 2019-05-20
Packaged: 2020-01-20 19:16:46
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 4
Words: 5,006
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18531448
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/gohoubi/pseuds/gohoubi
Summary: Daenerys and Aegon (formerly Jon Snow) have married lovelessly to rule the Seven Kingdoms together. Sansa Stark has been appointed their Hand - and Dany is enjoying their newfound closeness.





	1. A New Beginning

**Author's Note:**

> I don't know how the Hand position really works, but I always thought that Dany would try and break social norms by appointing a woman to the role.
> 
> Also, Jon and Dany have only married so they can rule Westeros together. They respect each other, but they are not romantically attracted to each other. So if you thought you were going to see some Jonerys in this, you've come to the wrong place :D
> 
> This is Part 3 of The Stories of Daenerys and Sansa. Maybe this will be the end...or maybe it won't!

Daenerys and Jon’s small council did not take Sansa’s appointment to the Hand position well.

Missandei and Grey Worm acquiesced to Dany’s wishes as they did in all else, but the others didn’t think it was a good idea.

“She has no political experience!” said Varys and Tyrion at the same time.

“We barely know who she is,” said Samwell Tarly, a friend of Jon’s.

“ _I_ know who she is,” said Jon sharply. “She’s my cousin, and I know what she has been through. She’s survived just as much as we have. Sansa’s gained valuable experience from that. Why would she not be suitable for the role?”

Lord Mormont sighed. “ _Khaleesi_ , nobody is disputing that, but Lady Stark is, well - ”

“A woman? Who says a woman can’t rule a kingdom? Are you saying that I can’t rule?” asked Dany, staring him down.

“It’s just that there’s no precedent for this. You’ve just started ruling…such a big deviation from the norm is dangerous when your regency is young.”

Jon gave the council a steely gaze. “I think we’ll take our chances.”

 

Daenerys and Jon waited on the front steps of the Red Keep for the arrival of Sansa. Dany remembered standing here facing the people of King’s Landing after their coronation. She had worn a dramatic red and black gown, while Jon wore a black suit of armour.

 _Aegon._ Dany always forgot to call him that. To the people of Westeros, he was Aegon Targaryen, a Snow no more. The son of Rhaegar and Lyanna.

It did not escape Dany’s notice that she was marrying her nephew. Marrying family was a Targaryen custom, but Dany found it unusual. It could have been worse. She could have married Viserys. Jon was distant, but at least he was kind to her. Dany knew he was struggling with the responsibilities of ruling a continent and coming to terms with his ancestry. She tried to be supportive, but often didn’t know how. Dany had doubted many, many things over her life - but the fact that she was descended from Old Valyria was never called into question. 

Dany had left Winterfell for King’s Landing close to half a year ago. The Lannister woman was gone, executed on charges of treason and incest. After some deliberation, the maesters had declared Jon and Dany the rightful King and Queen of Westeros. The first thing Dany had done as queen was rebuild the Dragonpit to its former glory. Targaryens had to have somewhere to store their dragons, after all.

In all that time, her longing for Sansa burned like a fire in her heart. Every now and then, Dany would pull up an image of her lover in her mind’s eye, focusing on those blue eyes and her hair like a comet. _Soon. So very soon._

How would Sansa turn up? Would she be riding a horse? Sitting in a carriage? A litter? Would she be alone, or have a household with her?

Dany had had the Tower of the Hand refurnished in anticipation of Sansa’s arrival. All vestiges of the previous Baratheon and Lannister rule had been removed and burned. They was replaced with Targaryen banners, artefacts and furniture. Dany ordered the removal of the dragon skulls from the basement and had them hung all over the castle. Finally the Red Keep looked like home.

Except for the absence of _her_.

“Are you excited to see Sansa?” asked Jon finally, breaking the silence. The sun was shining, making his black armour gleam.

“Of course. She’s a dear friend of mine.” Dany had not mentioned her relationship with Sansa to Jon, but she suspected he knew. If he did, he never said anything to her. Maybe Jon was relieved that he didn’t have to pretend to love Dany. Then she didn’t have to return his non-existent advances.

“So am I.”


	2. Memories From Before

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Sansa arrives at the castle. Daenerys and Jon show her around. Dany performs another kind of orientation.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hope you guys like this chapter!

When Dany heard the sound of hooves, her heart began to race. Her lover would soon be at the Red Keep. In her arms. In her bed.

The cobbles were shining, having just been washed. Dany couldn’t stop herself from shaking a little. The loss of Sansa over the past half-year had driven her crazy. She wondered how Jon felt. Dany remembered that Sansa had been his sister, until he’d found out he was her cousin. There were years of history between them. What would his reaction be?

The great portcullis at the end of the square drew up, against a soundtrack of trumpets.

The sound of hooves grew louder. Dany heard Jon draw in a breath beside her.

A single white horse ran in under the portcullis, a hooded figure riding. The rider pulled at the reins; the horse slowed down in front of the steps.

The rider pulled back their hood, revealing flame-red hair and eyes more blue than the Narrow Sea.

Sansa.

She dismounted, coming up the steps. “Jon. Daenerys,” she said once she was close enough. “It’s so good to see you again.”

Jon embraced her warmly. “You too, Sansa. You look even prettier than when I left.”

“I’m glad you think so,” Sansa said, laughing. “Daenerys.” She took Dany in her arms, and Dany was transported back to the moment in the Winterfell antechamber where they had embraced in tears and warmth. Dany could remember the feeling of safety she’d experienced in her lover’s arms. It was almost enough to make her weep.

When Dany finally pulled away, she got a chance to look at Sansa properly. “I’m so happy to see you. I think you’ll be an exemplary Hand.”

“I hope so. I only ever saw my father do it - and Seven knows I didn’t pay much attention back then.”

Jon proceeded to ruin their moment. “Did you bring anything else, Sansa? There’s no wagons, no household…are you sure you didn’t forget anything?”

Sansa smiled. “There’s a crate of clothes coming. Other than that there is nothing I need.”

Jon smiled. “Then I’ll trust your judgement. Come. Let us show you the Tower.”

“I’m sure you’ll love it,” Dany added.

The Tower of the Hand stood imposingly on the edge of the Red Keep, rouge-coloured and formidable. Dany had spent the most effort refurbishing that tower, just for Sansa. Would she appreciate her effort? She’d paid money to have special Stark banners made for the hallways. As she walked slightly behind Sansa, Dany felt her nervousness rising with each step. She had the strangest fear that as soon as Sansa tried to be the Hand, she would leave, never to return. _I never want to be apart from her again._

Dany had gotten used to living in the castle. She and Jon had purged the Red Keep of everyone from the Lannister rule, replacing them with trusted advisers and servants. Jon revamped the Kingsguard, conscripted more members to the City Watch, and dispatched their prisoners to the Wall.

Yet there were still parts of her life that were lacking. Jon and Dany slept apart; the only time Jon shared her bed was when they consummated their marriage. Every night, Dany lay in her large, white bed, waiting for Sansa.

_Everyone has left. But Sansa won’t leave._

The stairs to the Tower were dark, dun-coloured and numerous. When they got to the top, even Jon was puffing a little. Sansa must have been sweating under her Northern cloak, but she still looked full of energy.

Dany took in again her handiwork. The main room of the Tower was covered in Targaryen and Stark banners both, with furniture from the Free Cities and a lemon tree growing off of the solar balcony. It was comfortable and sunny - everything Winterfell was not.

Footsteps on the stairs broke all three of them out of their reverie. “Your Grace,” said a servant, addressing Jon, “Maester Tarly requests an audience. As soon as possible.”

Jon sighed good-naturedly. “Probably another old book he found in the basement. Daenerys, can you - ”

“Of course I can finish up from here. We girls can entertain ourselves.”

Jon followed his servant out without looking back. Dany stood behind Sansa. She couldn’t see her lover’s expression.

“Shall we go up to the other rooms?”

Sansa nodded yes. Dany turned around and led the way out, misgiving rising like a tide in her heart. _She’s not saying anything. Is she not happy? Is something wrong?_

On the next level up, Dany opened the door to one of the smaller bedrooms. “This is just a lesser bedchamber. If you’d had brought a household with you, they would use it…but we can have it converted to a study if it pleases you."

The room had nothing in it that made it any different from the other rooms in the Tower, but when Dany looked to Sansa, she saw tears streaming down her lover’s face.

“Sansa?…Sansa, my love, what’s wrong?” Dany laid her hand on her arm.

Sansa sniffed. “This used to be my old room. After my father was captured by the Lannisters, I was locked up here. I had my friend Jeyne with me…but then even she was taken away. Ser Boros used to hurt me…” Sansa pointed to an invisible spot just in front of the door, “right there.”

Dany felt guilt wash over her like a cold wave. She rushed to take Sansa in her arms like in Winterfell. “I’m sorry, I didn’t know. Sansa, I’m so sorry. I can have it demolished, or bricked up so nobody will go in there again.”

Sansa returned her embrace. Dany had her face smushed against Sansa’s furry cloak. “Daenerys, it is alright. It was just old memories, that’s all. It’s all in the past. It can’t hurt me anymore. I don’t want to sleep there though.”

Dany rushed to amend the situation. “No, no, of course not. I made up the lord’s chambers for you.” She pulled away and took Sansa’s face in her hands. “Listen. You made this promise to me almost a year ago in Winterfell, and I’ll return it to you now. Nobody will hurt you here - I promise. I’ll make sure of it.”

Both of them left the bedchamber, Dany slamming the door and locking it. Sansa had brushed it off, but Dany knew she would never allow that room to be opened again.

The lord’s chambers were the most splendidly appointed - it had a four poster bed, a sitting area, and two fireplaces. A solar gave a beautiful view of the Blackwater Rush, and the southland beyond. When she stood on the balcony, Dany remembered the rooms she had in Illyrio Mopatis’ manse, looking out at the city of Pentos. How far she had come since then.

Dany stood off to the side while Sansa explored the room. “I found some Stark banners…I hope you like them,” she said rather ineffectually. _Was I enough of a comfort back there? Is it bothering her more than she let on? Why did I not know about that room before she saw it?_ Dany worried at a loose thread on her dress.

“They’re lovely. Just like home. But you didn’t have to go to all this effort.”

“You’re my Hand. It’s not a bother.” _You have no idea that I would do anything for you, Sansa. I would die for you._

Dany wove her way through the couches to stand in front of her lover. “I’m excited to sleep on that bed. It’s bigger than any I’ve ever slept on in my life,” Sansa said, giggling. When she laughed, her blue eyes seemed to sparkle like the sun upon the ocean.

“We could try it out now. If you wanted,” Dany said, blushing. She reached up and unfastened the cloak, revealing a thin, shapely black dress.

Sansa, to her credit, immediately saw where this tended. “I would be very partial to that, Daenerys.”

When Sansa pressed her lips to Dany’s she could barely think straight through the fires of passion burning within her soul. _Is this the culmination? Is this what everything has been leading up to?_ Dany had thought she knew what love was, with Drogo, with Jon. That was nothing. This felt like a bolt of lightning had just struck her, tethering Dany to the ground and making every extremity spark with electricity. When she heard ripping, she barely cared that Sansa had just torn one of her best dresses.

"Sansa...Sansa, take me." Dany could barely hear herself over the rushing in her ears.

"I will. Daenerys, I will," responded Sansa, 

Dany found the neckline of Sansa’s dress by feel and sharply yanked it downwards; a loud tearing noise told her she was successful. Sansa’s body was even softer than she’d thought. _Is there any limit to Sansa’s beauty?_

Sansa pulled back a little to look at Dany properly. “Daenerys, should we be doing this?”

“Jon will not be returning. I know the maester. He’ll keep him stuck down there for hours.” Dany pulled Sansa on top of her onto the bed, which creaked at their combined weight. She bit her lip, enticingly, she hoped. “Also, call me Dany.”

The sunlight played across Sansa’s face, alighting her hair and shining in her sea-blue eyes.

“I love you, Sansa.”

“I love you too, Dany.”

So when Sansa goes down on her lover, under the swaying shadow of the lemon tree, Dany gives herself up to passion, wreathed around her body like tongues of dragonfire.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> finally some fucking PORN in this! i always wanted to write a daensa sex scene and i guess i did!


	3. Westerosi Politics

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Sansa watches the last Lannister loyalist meet his end - and hears some things at the same time.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Not very Dany and Sansa centred, but I did think it would be interesting to have a vaguely-politics like chapter. And this whole thing sets up the next chapter anyway. Have fun with it!

Sansa could not imagine anything more imposing than the Iron Throne.

It had been a while since someone sat on it; a lengthy interlude ensued between Queen Cersei’s execution and Jon’s coronation. The swords wreathed around it had stayed sharp, waiting for its new claimant. Indeed it was no longer a solitary throne; Dany had had the one from Dragonstone specially shipped to King’s Landing. Now two people sat on the dais, imposing and regal.

Sansa, of course, being the Hand, had to sit on a smaller chair next to the dais itself. Occasionally though, in the dark of night, she would creep down there and sit on Dany’s throne. Just for herself.

Sansa supposed that having a proper chair was better than all the others who had to stand, but she felt…small sitting next to Jon and Dany on their thrones. When she could, she would slant a glance up at Dany and revel in how… _right_ …it felt to see her on the throne.

At that moment, though, she had no such luxury. A line of Lannister supporters had been trooping into the throne room to either swear fealty to the new King and Queen, or suffer the consequences. Sansa had seen this procession before - with King Joffrey, a thousand miles away and a million years ago. _I am no longer the little bird I once was._

Sansa often barely paid attention to these gatherings, as Jon and Dany rarely asked her to speak. The real task was leading the small council. But this wasn’t the small council, and the Hand’s opinion was not needed here. Hopefully.

She had no idea who would prostrate themselves in front of the King today. In her years away from the court, everyone Sansa remembered had either left, or met a grisly end. She supposed that would make it easier, not having to see people from her past paraded like animals for the slaughter. Everyone of lesser importance had already been through this. There was only one man left.

Euron Greyjoy - the leader of Cersei’s army, her second in command, and if rumours could be believed, her lover. Sansa dimly remembered the stories Theon had told of him - a terrifying, seafaring exile. Euron’s hair had grown out in custody and he looked nothing like the trimmed, handsome rogue Theon had described him as. Even still, he swaggered to the middle of the throne room like he would aboard a ship’s deck. Euron clearly still had confidence, even in a tenuous situation like this one.

What would happen to him? Even though she knew the younger Greyjoy had no love for his uncle, Sansa found herself hoping he would live. Just for Theon.

“Euron Greyjoy,” the herald announced from the back of the room. Normally Euron’s titles would be announced too, but in this case he had none. Just his name - and his reputation.

Sansa knew what would come next. Jon would give a token little speech about swearing fealty, repenting for past crimes and all the rest of it. She didn’t want to listen. If she didn’t hear what this man had done, she would not be afraid of him.

Euron sharply interrupted Jon.

“The Bastard King and the Mad Queen? Is that who I’m meant to bow to? I am Euron Greyjoy! Do you know what I’ve done? I will not bow to you - or anyone!” He struggled against his shackles, which created an unnerving little jingle.

Out of the corner of her eye, Sansa saw Lord Mormont’s hand twitch towards his longsword, but he did not draw it. He was not the only one on the defence - several of the other soldiers were also readying themselves for a fight.

“Greyjoy, we’ve been rather lenient towards you,” Jon said coolly - (Sansa didn’t know how he kept his composure) - “But if you don’t swear fealty to us, then we have no choice but to let you suffer the full consequences.”

Sansa had heard that Euron was normally a rather collected person, but the new version of him defied all expectations. “Consequences? Who is this green boy to tell me about consequences? Have you ever seen Valyria? The smoking ruin, the ghosts that wander through there, the relics, the potions, the dark magic? Bones of dragons, wyverns, wyrms? Have you _seen_ it, green Bastard King?”

Jon opened his mouth to retaliate, but Euron barrelled on, his sea-green eyes blazing with fury. “Your…whore wife hails from there, does she not? I’ve heard stories…a mad Targaryen, again on this throne!” He turned, his chains clanking, to address the audience in the throne room. “The dragonwhore burnt down a temple in Essos, and ever since she gained power, she has left nothing but burning and destruction in her wake! Fire and blood - her house’s words, she will bring exactly that down on Westeros! On us!” Euron kept on raving, ranting about cities lost, people dead, populations split by the Mad Queen, completely lost to the world and himself.

Sansa had heard all of this before, but from Dany herself, in the dark of night. “I only wanted to help the slaves,” she had said quietly. “I only wanted to kill those who were hurting the people in their cities.”

“What about the temple?” Sansa had asked, scared of what the answer might be.

“They were going to hurt me. Rape me, I heard them going on about it. With the dragons, I don’t feel powerless anymore.”

Jon’s voice brought Sansa back to herself. “ _Enough_!” he roared, loud enough for the sound to echo in the high ceilings of the throne room. “I have heard enough of this. I will not have my wife slandered! Very well, if that’s your opinion of us, I’ll gladly believe it. Mormont, kill him. Do it, do it quickly.”

Mormont did not need telling twice. His sword came singing out of its scabbard, glinting in the sun, and cleaved through Greyjoy’s neck as if it were nothing more than a side of ham. Euron’s head, still frozen in an expression of fury, rolled across the floor, blood dripping a grisly trail in its wake. Mormont, his face splattered with blood, sheathed his sword and took his place again with his sworn brothers.

With that, all the Lannister loyalists were gone. The city was one hundred percent under Targaryen control.

Sansa wondered how Theon would feel about this. Would she be the one to tell him? She supposed she would have to write to him at some point.

Jon didn’t even bother telling the audience court was adjourned. He and Dany got up as one and left the throne room, anger still blazing in their wake.


	4. Salt from the Shore

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Dany takes Sansa on an outing. Sansa goes dragon-riding.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I wrote this fic for this scene if nothing else.

Sansa was back in her own room now, after a meeting with the small council. After the spectacle in the throne room, nobody was up much for talking. All she did was order the City Watch to patrol for two hours later than normal, and for the dungeons to be refurbished now that they were empty. The weather outside was beautiful, and the Blackwater Rush glittered enticingly in the sun. Sansa wished she could go outside, but she had work to do - going through tax reports, signing some low level decrees, writing to Theon about the fate of his uncle. She was just about to sit down at her desk when knocking came from the door.

“Sansa? Are you in there?” came though, faintly but audible.

Sansa opened the door, to reveal Dany. Her hair was coming out of its braids a little, and there was still a light flush on her cheeks.

“Dany. Is everything all right?” Sansa moved aside to let her lover in, closing the door quietly behind her.

“Yes, I’m fine. I just wanted to talk about…” Dany looked down at her hands, wringing them worriedly. “Greyjoy, back there. What he said…”

Sansa could see it written all over her face. _Please don’t listen to him. I’m not all the things he said, I’m not mad, I’m a good person. Please don’t hate me, Sansa. Please don’t believe him._

She strode forwards and took her lover’s hands. “Dany, of course I didn’t listen to him. I love you. You’re kind and generous and I love you for it. He was just ranting. Nothing but a traitor, desperately ranting. Now he’s dead and gone.”

Dany looked so relieved, and Sansa knew she had been worrying over it all the way up here. Now that it was over, she looked sneaky, in that charming kind of way. “Sansa, there’s been something I wanted to show you.”

“Show me? What is it?”

“I can’t tell you where it is - you’ll guess,” Dany said, smiling rakishly, drawing Sansa across the room by the hand. “Come on. It’s a beautiful day.”

“But…there’s work I have to do.”

“Don’t worry about that. I’m the queen! I tell you when to work.”

So Sansa let Dany drag her out of the Tower, through the Red Keep, past the portcullis, into the streets of King’s Landing. The whole way, Dany looked back occasionally, her indigo eyes sparkling like gemstones, her face lit up with happiness. _This. This is what she feels when she’s with me._ With that knowledge in mind, Sansa tightened her hold on Dany’s hand and ran.

 

The secret location turned out to be the Dragonpit, now restored to its former glory, but with the roof still absent so the dragons could come and go as they pleased. This time, both Rhaegal and Drogon were there, feasting on what looked like horse carcasses.

“The dragons? Is this what you wanted to show me?” Sansa leaned against a pillar, half-winded from their run. “I’ve seen them so many times.” Indeed, they had begun to expect and even enjoy her presence. Sansa ran her hand down Rhaegal’s snout, who snorted appreciatively.

Dany smiled. “I know. But today, we’re going to ride them.”

Sansa was shocked into a standing position. “What? Ride them?”

“Yes. It’ll be fine.” Dany scratched Drogon under his wing.

“But…I haven’t known them all their life like you have. And you had to do all those things to Drogon to ride him the first time.”

“But I don’t have to anymore. Anyway, Rhaegal has always been the more docile of my children. See, he likes you already. Besides, Jon rode Rhaegal, and you know how daft he is, even at the best of times.”

Sansa looked at Rhaegal, that great quivering green beast. If she rode him, one swoop could end her life - literally. She had a stark vision of her body broken and battered on the Blackwater rocks.

“Are there any reigns? How do I make him…go?”

Dany laughed, as if it was the most normal thing in the world. “You don’t! They’re dragons - nobody tells them what to do. If Drogon flies, Rhaegal will follow.”

It all sounded comparatively simple coming from Dany, but Sansa knew it was not. _She’ll keep me safe,_ whispered a little voice in her head.

“Alright. What do I have to do?”

“Not much. Look how relaxed he is. Keep stroking his snout.” Rhaegal looked so innocent, Sansa could not help feeling a little more reassured. But the huge scorch marks around the walls made the misgiving rise again.

Dany moved next to Sansa. “When I say so, go around that side, and just climb a little, then swing your leg over. Pull yourself up with those spiky scales. Sit astride him.”

“That’s it?”

“Yes,” Dany said kindly. “Just don’t move around too much.”

Sansa readied herself. _It’ll be just like mounting a horse. A big, green, fire-breathing horse._ Dany seemed to read her mind. “Just like a horse. Ready?”

No matter what, she would be brave today. “I am.”

Dany saying ‘go’ was barely audible over the rushing noise in Sansa’s ears, but she still walked around the carcasses and approached Rhaegal’s side. The muscles under his wing rippled. _I can do this._

She reached for the spiky scales, got a grip on one, and found it was warm and coarse to the touch. She yanked herself on top of the dragon and dragged her leg over. Rhaegal growled and Sansa flattened herself against him, ready to be thrown off, but he simply jostled a little and settled.

Sansa was sitting on a dragon. An actual, living dragon. What would Arya think? What would Jon think?

Dany looked excited. “You did it!”

Sansa laughed breathlessly, her heart pounding. “I guess I did.”

Her lover didn’t even stop to enjoy the moment. “Alright, let me just get on Drogon. One moment.”

“Dany, what do I hold onto?”

“Use the spiky scales,” she called from the other side of the pit. “Or the big folds of skin. Whatever you like.”

Some of the spikes were as long as Sansa’s forearm. She grabbed one in each hand, enjoying the warmth emanating from them.

Dany came back into view, sliding into position on Drogon. “Sansa, no matter what, keep holding on. Rhaegal won’t toss you off, I promise.” She smiled. “Are you ready?”

Sansa remembered what was coming next, and terror rose like a tide. “Dany, I don’t think I - ”

But she didn’t get to finish the sentence, because in two great flaps of his wings Drogon was gone, and Rhaegal was following. Sansa felt the wings moving behind her, and in less than a second the Dragonpit was sinking and the sky was opening up around her.

The view was incredible. Sansa fought back the rising nausea and looked properly upon the city below her. The Pit was receding into the distance, the Red Keep growing in size. When Sansa looked down, all she saw were tiny buildings, smaller than toys. The wall of the city, the Blackwater Rush, and beyond that, endless blue.

Drogon was leading, and Dany was on his back, her white hair streaming out behind her like a flag. She turned to look, and Sansa could see, even at this distance, her expression of surprise and elation. Sansa knew that expression must be mirrored on her own face. Excitement and happiness rose up in her heart, and realisation dawned - she would never again do anything that would come close to this moment.

Drogon flew upwards before the Red Keep, just missing the tallest tower. Rhaegal did the same, and Sansa gripped him tightly as he nosed towards the sky. The castle passed by in an instant, leaving only the Narrow Sea.

Where are we going? Sansa wanted to ask, though she was much too far away for Dany to hear. The Crownlands peeled away from them in all directions, faster than she thought possible. Tiny trees whizzed by, leaving only huge smudges of green. Rhaegal’s muscles churned underneath her, their warmth leaching into her legs. Wind whipped at her hair and forced tears from her eyes, but Sansa could think of no feeling this good.

Sansa wondered how fast dragons could fly. If she remembered correctly, she and Dany were flying towards Driftmark. When she looked towards the horizon, she could just pick out the mountains that made up the Vale. _I could keep flying forever, beyond the Vale and the North and the Land of Always Winter. See what is out there._

She had no idea how much time had passed, but after a while, green forests gave way to a small town. Dany turned around and mouthed _Duskendale_ in Sansa’s direction.

Duskendale? How far away from the capital were they? Sansa watched the frothy sea tear away below her, imagining all the animals that must live in its depths. Rhaegal called to his brother, a high screech that reverberated in Sansa’s bones. Drogon replied, sending birds flying from the trees on the ground.

A little while longer, then a small island came into view. Driftmark.

Drogon landed hard on a stony shore, scattering rocks and black sand. Rhaegal landed a few meters away, so hard Sansa nearly lost her seat on his back.

Dany was off Drogon’s back and at Sansa’s side before she’d even gotten her breath back. “You did it!” Dany said, her purple eyes crinkling in pride.

“I did,” Sansa said, still coming off her adrenaline high. She swung a leg off Rhaegal, landing hard on the shore.

Dany threw her arms around Sansa. “I’m so proud of you,” she said.

“I’m proud of you too,” Sansa says, pressing her lips to her lover’s. When she does so, the salt from the shore mixes with the smoky scent of dragonfire.

She cannot imagine anything tasting better.


End file.
